


Never Seeing the Dawn

by Laeviss



Series: Wranduin Week 2020 [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Betrayal, M/M, Missing Scene, Mists of Pandaria, POV First Person, Wranduin Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss
Summary: The events leading up the Garrosh's escape at his trial, retold through Wrathion's eyes. Written for Wranduin Week Day 1: Betrayal!
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Wranduin Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914982
Comments: 23
Kudos: 26





	Never Seeing the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> So, I may have broken some cardinal rule of fanfic writing and written this in first person. Sorry if it's jarring! I really hope it works here!

_Friend._ I mulled over the word, trying it on for size. It brought to mind the promises I had heard whispered over tables in the Tavern, the kind of give-and-take through which many of my affairs were carried out. If you, dearest champion, retrieve this for me, I will make it worth your while. You will be a friend of the Black Prince, entitled to all of his numerous offerings. You will drink free at Tong’s table tonight!

One glance in Anduin’s direction suggested this was not, in fact, the kind of friendship to which he was referring. _Do you think of us as friends?_ My eyes fell to his pink lower lip, trembling faintly as a cold wind rushed between us.

“Yes,” I admitted, my thoughts straying to a kiss stolen in the stairwell less than six months ago. My chest lightened, and I rolled back my shoulders, reaching up and adjusting the turban perched upon my head. “As much as I can have friends, at any rate.”

“Then...can we just...stay here in comfortable silence for a while? As friends?”

“Why yes, of course,” I replied. Tucking my hands under my arms, I gazed out over the Alliance campsite, watching as two night elves I recognized huddled with bowls of soup clutched in their hands. Steam shimmered on the surface of the liquid, then rose and dispersed as another gust of wind swept through the valley. Funny how I had come to know so many faces, so many mortals, during my time on this strange continent. 

I cast another sidelong glance in Anduin’s direction, and found him watching, as well, his lower lip pressed under his upper teeth and his shoulders quivering. I unflexed my fingers and lowered my arm to my side, then swept it up to rest against his elbow. He exhaled, and I returned to the word again. Friend. Friends. Is that how mortals described the ache for closeness, the longing that swelled in my chest when I caught his heart racing beneath my palm?

Bowing my head, I gave him what he wished. How could I not, really, when he relaxed his arm and laced our fingers together? 

In the distance, a temple bell tolled. We listened for a while, and I picked out the snort of a yak somewhere in the grass far to our left. It was nice, honestly. Perhaps I should have taken the prince’s advice more often, as silly as that sounded. 

I shifted and leaned against his arm. Breathing in the rich scent of roasting pork as it wafted from a stand further down the temple road, the tip of my tongue prickled, saliva collecting beneath it. Glancing over, I opened my mouth to ask if our friendly waiting might be augmented by a bite to eat, before the court procession commenced at the thirteenth bell. Before I could make a sound, a pair of heavy boots thudding against the walkway drew my attention.

Craning back to look around Anduin, I saw his father flanked by two guards with claymores as large as my leg. Behind them trailed Lady Jaina Proudmoore and Kalecgos, his blue hair dulled under the overcast sky. I murmured a gentle warning to my _friend_ and he untangled our fingers. 

Brushing off my palm on the tasseled tail of my tabard, I spun my wrist, leaning forward but making sure to keep my head upright. The king didn’t react at first, his grey eyes trained upon Anduin's face. I tried again, clearing my throat, and exclaiming:

“Your Majesty! What a surprise.” 

At my right, Anduin shifted, fumbling with the gold sleeve of his tunic. I thought to ask if he were all right, or to, again, bring up the possibility of pork buns further down the hill, but King Wrynn took a step between us. My eyes moved up his blue chestplate, to his scarred face and thick brown hair tied atop his head.

I had never stood this close to him before. Straightening and pulling my shoulder blades down my back, I opened my mouth to speak again. The idiot king interrupted:

“Anduin. Jaina has invited us to lunch in her tent.”

“Oh!” Anduin exclaimed. Whirling around, he flashed a smile that lit his face from his cheeks to his ears. My heart leapt, but I swallowed it and tore my gaze away, shifting from one foot to the other and glancing between the humans to the dragon they had in tow. 

He, at least, met my eyes, but when I smiled and tipped my head, he flashed a stare, unfathomably cold. A pity to learn that he, too, was in the back pocket of the Dragon Queen. We could have gotten on well, Kalec and I, the two youngest Aspects, both ‘friends’ of particular human nobles with hair the color of gold. 

Instead, he brushed past me. His friend turned and murmured something in his ear, before plastering a smile across her face and nodding to me. I returned the look, but couldn’t help but notice her eyes remained cold and searching.

Standing with my hands hanging at my sides, I looked to Anduin, who had stepped to his father’s side and picked up his cane. 

“I will see you at the trial, then, Wrathion,” he said. Every word felt measured and carefully chosen. 

I nodded, swallowing the pang in my chest, and replying with the formality befitting a mortal prince. “Why, of course, your Highness. I will look for you in the crowd.”

“Thank you, Wrathion. And I, as well.”

And with that, my friend left at his father’s side. Turning, I followed their silhouettes down the path, King Varian stepping with ease while Anduin leaned into his cane and limped along in his shadow. The smell of pork buns roasting nearby made my stomach turn. Clenching my hands, I puffed out my chest and quickened in the opposite direction, the cool air now far from pleasant and my mind awash with thoughts of Anduin and his family clustered around a pot of the finest carrots from Halfhill. 

At the crest of the mountain sat an old pandaren, fumbling with a string of glass beads. I didn’t mean to glare at him, but when he caught my eye, he startled and shoved his furry paws into his lap. Such is the curse of red eyes, I suppose. I made many a child cry at the tavern, against all efforts at kindness on my part. Prince Anduin was always so good with the children, letting them crawl into the crook of his arm and huddle around him, even when he seemed far too weak to be sitting up. 

On Hallow’s End, that boy named Makkie whispered to him that he was afraid of the monster who lived downstairs. Perhaps he was right to be, I thought with a frown. Tipping my chin in the monk’s direction, I didn’t wait to see his reply. I took the temple stairs as quickly as I could manage, stepping over the threshold, and turning on my heels to the storehouse off to my left. 

A familiar blond head lifted upon my approach. The air shimmered around him, parting the shadows as he glided towards me. Lengthening my neck and willing any lingering emotion from my face, I stepped in and stared up into his pale face. 

“Kairozdormu,” I greeted, plainly. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon, Black Prince. Is something troubling you?”

I wrinkled my nose, cursing my traitorous face. “Of course not,” I drawled with a wave of my hand. “I simply tired of the company of mortals, and I couldn’t stand another meal from these greasy pandaren food stands. I thought to hunt something of my own upon the hills, but I didn’t want to create a scene.”

“I see,” the bronze dragon nodded. “Unfortunately, the Tolai Hare rarely come this far east, or so I was told.”

I tensed, digging my heels into the tile floor. A bit of heat prickled beneath the brim of my turban at my neck, but I quickly recovered, clearing my throat and jutting out my chin. “In any case, it is rather fortunate I encountered you.”

“Oh? And why is that?” The bronze dragon quipped. His face never reacted, as if he were hearing the same words spoken for the thousandth time in his life. Perhaps he was, honestly: forced by the destiny of his flight to exist in the same moment, again and again, for all eternity.

I have often tried to wrap my head around the mutability of time, but I find myself sadly limited by the blinders my own charge has placed on me. While change governs the Bronze Dragonflight, it is the eternal that consumes my mind. 

Closing my eyes, I extended my reach down to the deepest places, to the golden tunnels and turning gears securing Azeroth’s sleep. I drew in a breath, staving off the chill that crawled up my spine, and disclosed, assiduously, “I have come to have second thoughts.”

“Oh,” Kairozdormu leaned forward. His glowless eyes became purpler the closer he came to me. “Second thoughts about our plan.”

“Indeed. That is the one.”

“And why is that?” His long brows furrowed, quivering at the ends. For once, the unimpressed smile fell from his lips. 

I swallowed and strained on my toes, severing my connection with the earth for a pause as I formulated my response. “There are many factors at play, factors you may not have considered. I, for one, have been watching the faces of my Horde champions throughout the course of this trial.” The words rushed from the tip of my tongue. I gestured towards the stacks of barrels at the far corner of the room, stepping to the side and addressing the faceless figures they formed. 

“Garrosh remains as unpopular now as he was two months ago when I shifted my gaze upon the Alliance. You speak of an easy merging of orcs from the past and present, but how can you ensure Garrosh’s Horde will stand victorious? How do we know the mortals won’t further fracture and weaken themselves before the Burning Legion’s return?”

“They won’t.” Kairozdormu’s robe rustled in the darkness. “As I have told you many times, Wrathion, I have seen it.”

“I would like to see it, before I fling my entire weight against another lost cause.”

“And you will, tomorrow afternoon, when we step into the past together.”

 _As friends,_ a small voice in my head supplied. Pursing my lips, I toyed with the tassels at the end of my turban, their susurration against my ear distracting me from the unfeeling look on the bronze dragon’s face. Finding a loose gold plait, I used my nail to tuck it back into its knot. My knuckles nudged against the metal hoop swinging above, giving the lobe a flick. 

Kairozdormu lapsed into silence. When he exhaled, it was as if his true form rose to fill the space from barrels to door. No amount of power I drew from beneath my feet could counter it or make my essence grander than it already was. I had only the strength of my voice and my will, driving my toes into the tiles and lifting my chin another inch to meet his muted stare. 

“I stand by what I said,” I declared, crossing my arms and tapping against my scaled pauldron. “We will wait and see what the court decides, or I will not be joining you at all in your...endeavor.”

“What the court decides,” Kairozdormu repeated. “Was it last week? Or was it yesterday? When you stood in my tent cursing the court and all it represents. King Varian Wrynn is an ass. This whole court is a sham.”

The words, words I had sputtered so freely, sounded foreign wrapped in Kairozdormu’s fluid draconic. Even when I had kicked the edge of his table and rattled his golden baubles, he hadn’t seized upon them or hissed them in my face like this.

The tip of my chin shot forward. An ache built in my rigid stance, but I forced myself to maintain it, knowing that no amount of pain was worth revealing my weakness to another dragon. Lifting my arm, I dismissed his comments with a wave and answered in my own most elegant and pleasant draconic:

“Insults uttered in anger, dear Kairoz, nothing more. I assure you, the name I chose for myself is not without meaning. I burn with rage for this earth and the destruction the mortals have reigned down upon Her. Forgive me if I come across as—” 

I stopped, milling through the words I had overheard whispered when my agents and champions believed me not to be listening. I settled on one, murmured in my ear in Anduin’s playful tone: “—Passionate.”

Kairozdormu hummed, drawing his lips into an unreadable line. “Passion. It’s not uncommon for dragons of your color to be fueled by passion. We’ve seen it all, numerous times, and in some cases, it has its merits.”

I nodded, studying the tip of his pasty chin. “It does, indeed.”

“And yet,” the bronze dragon went on. As he lifted his hand, the pale sleeve of his robe slid back, revealing the same distorted glow surrounding his head. My gaze darted to it, but then I caught the continuation of his statement, drifting into the space between us.

“—I have begun to suspect, the more time I have spent with you, that your passions may have been squandered in the wrong direction. Tell me, Wrathion, that this isn’t about that mortal.”

My lower lip numbed, my jaw clenching beneath it. The blood drained from my cheeks, and I staggered, hunger and nausea tugging at my stomach in turns. His words rang in my ear: spoken so coolly, but with the malice of a dagger driven into my neck, a merciless assassination I had watched play out many times at the hands of my agents, and was now forced to endure in the shadows alone. 

I swallowed, but my throat constricted. Sweat pooled beneath the wrap on my brow. The foolish bronze dragon must have taken my hush for acquiescence, for he prodded in an unfeeling whisper, “You have lost your direction, Wrathion. The Black Dragonflight has come to an end.”

“It has not,” I managed. I pushed up my turban, then straightened my tabard, speaking again to the barrels in the corner. “Nor will I tolerate such accusations, not after all I have done at your behest.”

“For Azeroth,” Kairozdormu corrected. “Do not lose sight of your goal.”

“I have not, and I will not.”

“Excellent. Then I will see you tomorrow at dawn.”

I opened my mouth, but he brushed past me, his robes swishing about his ankles. The patter of his footfalls faded up the ramp behind me, and then the room sank into stillness. I hated the quiet—I always have. I hated the way the darkness closed in around me. Shaking my head, I walked to the pile of kegs and took a seat upon the lowest one, crossing my ankle over my knee and leaning back.

A chill started at the base of my spine and crawled upwards. Squeezing shut my eyes, I hummed a soft tune I had once heard played on a grummle flute while Anduin and I sat hunched on the rocky ledge of the spring, popping bubbles with our toes and laughing softly about nothing.

____________________

Digging my claws into the straps of my leather satchel, I beat my wings, swerving between tents, drawing the occasional look, but, blessedly, little more than a gasp from the champions gathered around the fires. I dipped into the valley, then made for the coast. Ivory pieces rattled on my descent, and I huffed.

The lone figure on the beach unbent his knee and turned his head. His eyes widened, his lips curling into a smile. 

“Care for company?” I exclaimed, my tone rising to mask the hitch in my breath. 

“You know,” Anduin replied. His brow knit together, but the setting sun caught a glimmer at the corners of his eyes. “Jaina and my father would just as soon I not talk to you anymore, so by all means, please do come down and keep me company.”

With a snort, I deposited the satchel on a nearby rock, shifting as swiftly as Anduin could turn his head to follow my descent. I crossed my right ankle over my left knee, flexed my fingers, and smoothed out my tabard. One hand reached to adjust my turban, while the other gestured in Anduin’s direction. 

I summoned a smile, and the lines on his forehead softened. He scooted closer, making small talk as I caught my breath and returned to the words I had rehearsed in my tent over dinner. _Azeroth is in grave danger._ Rolling back my shoulders, I trained my stare on his soft lower lip. _Please, stay away from the courtroom tomorrow afternoon._

“I think Father would like to see me locked up until I turn thirty-seven,” he confessed, the brightness of his smile dimming. 

“I am given to understand that is a sentiment shared by most human parents at times,”I replied, my gaze straying to the pebbles scattered between us. It must be time, I decided, but when I exhaled the breath caught in my throat. Clenching my jaw, I spat out the first words that rose to the tip of my tongue, “You did not go see Garrosh today, I assume.”

“How did—” His pupils swelled. He tensed, his fingers gripping the corner of the stone beneath him. My stomach twisted, a cold wave crashing over it as surprise yielded to furrowed brows and lips pursed in a line. It was a look I knew quite well from our first few weeks together in the Tavern, but one I, graciously, hadn’t seen marring his face for at least three months.

I opened my mouth to excuse myself, but my dry mortal tongue stuck to the back of my teeth. 

Shaking his head, he cut me off with a brief “Never mind,” before releasing his hold on the rock and folding his hands in his lap. His gaze strayed towards the sun on the water, its light drawing the lines on either side of his chin into sharp relief. How odd that a mortal so young could look so drawn and tired. My heart lurched, and I uncrossed my legs to rest the tips of my boots against the sand. 

After a moment, he went on, ““I’m . . . not sure I’m going to see him again.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve given up trying to bring the fellow into the Light!” I tried, throwing my hand to my chest. I caught his eye, and went on, my bracelets jingling as they slid beneath my sleeve. “I confess I should be rather sad to hear that, although I’ve long maintained your naiveté will be your undoing.”

I ended with a pointed nod, which he returned, but the corners of his lips remained tilted downward. He heaved a sigh and leaned back until his back rested against the outcropping behind us. 

“I don’t know. I’m just tired, I think. Tired of all of this. And I’m stuck here, especially now.”

 _Understandable,_ I thought to agree, templing my fingers before my chest and drawing in a breath. Glancing from the sea to Anduin’s face, I tried, once more, to return to my warning, but thoughts of his face falling and the lines between his blond brows deepening shocked me to silence. 

I shook my head, the tassels of my turban quivering against my jaw. Lifting my eyes to the clouds, I began, with little inkling where the statement was heading:

“When I am a little older—”

Anduin shifted and followed my stare. My shoulders began to unwind. “I shall, if asked politely, take you on my back and ferry you to fascinating places.” Sweeping my hand across the sky, I tilted my shoulders in his direction. He faced me, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. 

Puffing out my chest, I continued with a playful wink, “Where we will have adventures that will age your father ten years in one night.” 

His grin faltered, and for a moment I feared I had crossed a line, too emboldened by my fantasy to consider mortal coyness, or, perhaps, whether he wanted that kind of _adventure_ with a friend like me. My scalp tingled; I drew my shoulders back and unclenched my jaw.

As I prepared a hasty strung-together apology, however, he turned, crossing his legs and propping his elbows against his knees. Resting his chin in his hands, he sighed. “You have no idea how wonderful that sounds.”

Our eyes met. A faint blush bloomed on his pale cheeks. As I studied it, my heart fluttered, then clenched when my treacherous mind nagged me to recall the purpose for this impromptu meeting. Pursing my lips, I forced my neck to relax. 

The oranges and golds of the setting sun hit Anduin’s hair framed his face in a glow that felt like an extension of his warmth. I was loath to see it falter, loath to see those lines around his mouth return. I lifted a hand to speak, but it swept to the side and pointed, instead, at my discarded satchel.

My other hand adjusted my turban, permitting a cool breeze to seep beneath the brim and assuage the sweat clinging to the ends of my curls. Avoiding his gaze, I gestured towards a stray scrap of wood and reached for the authoritative voice I used on my champions.

“In the meantime,” I boomed. The words hummed at the base of my throat. “I see driftwood for a fire, to keep out the chill and provide illumination for—”

With a flick of my wrist, I dipped my hand into the satchel and withdrew a smaller bag with red silk embroidery. I shook it up, then down, the pieces contained within clicking pleasantly together. “Jihui!”

Anduin’s smile widened. Brushing back his bangs, he leaned forward, arcing his brow and flashing a determined look that made my heart race. “You’re on!” 

I chuckled, rising and lighting the fire, and then sitting back down a few inches closer, resting our knees together. I spread out the board between our thighs and we played a few rounds. To my left, the sun sank between the mountains, leaving us to bask in the warmth of my dragon flames. I ran the tip of my boot along the side of his uninjured leg and he trembled beneath me, his giggle shaking our legs as well as his fingers fumbling with the pieces. 

We played a few rounds, and then, when the driftwood was all but spent and an unpleasant chill whistled in the gap between us, we rose and strolled across the shore. The waves quietly licked at the sand beneath our feet. Anduin leaned against my shoulder, and I slipped an arm around his waist, allowing him to walk without aid of his cane. 

His hair tickled the side of my neck when another gust swept through. I pressed the heel of my hand into his side, and he murmured, as delicate as the evening mist, “Thank you, Wrathion.”

“And you, as well, my dear,” I replied, automatically. 

He paused. Turning my head, I saw a row of blue and gold tents lining the beach up ahead. From the way Anduin shifted his weight, I supposed we had reached his father’s encampment. Removing my arm, I stepped in front of him, gazing into a face now cast in my red-tinged glow. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he looked to the side. 

My heart leapt. I had to swallow it down to ensure its momentary panic never touched my face. A clammy hand crawled up the nape of my neck and clenched, and my knees buckled beneath me. I dug my long nails into my palms and nodded, slowly, “Yes, you will.”

“All right,” Anduin answered, his smile undaunted. This time, his naiveté had spared me any uncomfortable questions. He shifted onto the balls of his feet, crossing his arms, and dipping forward. His lips brushed against the skin in front of my ear.

When he withdrew, it was unclear whether the red glow cast on his face stemmed from me or was simply the power of his flush. I couldn’t help but smile in turn. Emboldened by the wetness clinging to my cheek and in desperate need of distraction, I slipped my fingers into his hair and tilted his head to the side. 

I paused, he nodded, and then, craning forward, I pressed our lips firmly together. His arms wrapped around me, and I stepped in until my black dragonscale armor brushed the gentle slope of his shoulders. He murmured. I dipped my tongue into his mouth, and his fingers dug into the small of my back.

Breathing in his soft scent, and exhaling a puff of smoke from my nose, I clung to him. I took care not to bite as I sucked on his lower lip, and when we parted, his flushed smile made something inside me ache. 

Even after he pulled back his arms, I struggled to regain control of my mortal form. He looked at my face and chuckled, then, smoothing back his hair, stepped around me and gestured towards the tents.

“I’m going to, ah,” his breath hitched, and he stammered. “My guards will worry if I’m not back soon. I’ll—ah, see you tomorrow?”

“You will,” I answered, in a voice wholly apart from myself. 

“All right,” he nodded, casting me one last look, then turning and limping towards the large tent in the center of the encampment.

I stood with my arms hugged loosely around my waist, watching his blond head reappear every time he passed under a torch or lamp. My friend. My first and only one, the only one who dared smile and support himself against me, whose eyes no longer narrowed in suspicion when I spoke.

Swallowing, I gave the gold piping on my shirt a flick with the tip of my nail, then re-adjusted the stone brooch at my throat. My clammy palm slipped across its smooth surface, and I closed by eyes, tapping into its power and grounding myself in its web of crystalline particles and links. 

When I opened my eyes once more, Anduin was gone. All that remained in the Alliance encampment were a handful of guards keeping rigid watch at their stations and a fire crackling in a brazier, its smoke drifting into the darkness. 

I inhaled its charcoal scent, rolled back my shoulders, and shifted into my true form. Perhaps I would sleep in tomorrow instead, I thought, as I furiously beat my wings and staggered up the mountain. After all, I had had a very eventful evening, and was likely to have worn myself out with all this flying. 

Swooping back over the embankment, I considered retrieving my satchel, but at the last minute a cold gust bit at the edges of my wings and I had to ascend a few paces to break from it. With any luck, dear Anduin would find the bag in the morning, and seek out my tent to return it. I could invite him to stay for breakfast, and we could sit side by side, eating rice, and excitedly conferring about the day to come.

Alas, if only I were fool enough to pray to the Light for such things.

____________________

That night, I dreamed. I stood in a hallway with white marble columns, unfamiliar to me, though in my heart I knew it to be the great city of Stormwind. A gray man with a grim mustache brushed past me, and a pair of soft footfalls padded across the floor to meet him.

A young man with blond hair pulled into a sloppy bun at the back of his head rushed forward, his face ghostly pale and his lower lip trembling. 

“Genn,” his voice cracked. I swallowed, unable to shoulder the agony hung on that word. 

“I’m sorry,” the older man bowed his head, and his hands crossed in front of him. “I shouldn’t have left him, your Majesty.”

“Your Highness!” Anduin cried. Rubbing his face in his hands, he shook his head, and his shoulders trembled. “No, please, Genn, this cannot be happening.”

“I’m sorry,” Genn Greymane repeated. Longing to jump to Anduin’s aid, I opened my mouth, but found my tongue to be limp and useless. I attempted to raise my arm, but it was as rigid and unyielding at the columns flanking my side. 

Anduin shuddered. Genn took a step forward and touched his elbow. “The Horde betrayed us in our hour of need. With the Banshee Queen gone, nothing stood between us and the Burning Legion. Your father fought honorably, Anduin. He died a hero, the only hero to stand on the shore that day.”

Lifting his head, Anduin bit his trembling lower lip, and nodded. He didn’t speak, but the lines under his eyes conveyed more to me than a thousand words. My stomach lurched, the floor dropping out from under me.

A quiver in my knees spread to the small of my back, and I dug it into the wall, gritting my teeth and waiting for the room to stop its incessant spinning. 

Cracking open an eye, I found the hallway transformed. Where moments ago it had been lined in banners dyed navy and gold, now there wasn’t a color in sight. White columns alternated with long black curtains. Rubbing my fingers between my brows, I fought back the wave of nausea that kicked up when I stared down the hall.

Across from me, a figure clad in brown wedged himself in the gap between marble and fabric. A bit of gold hair peeked out from his hood. Lowering his chin, he rested his forehead against the stone pillar, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

I knew better than to try to speak, this time. Rolling back my shoulders, I listened to the hum of voices materializing in the distance. 

“I understand the need to mourn,” Genn Greymane growled, “But the king’s place is on his throne. The Broken Shore must be our focus. Convince Anduin to end his vigil.”

“Please,” another voice chimed in. His words carried an accent I had heard many times from my champions. A draenei. I craned my neck, resting my palm against the wall to my right. 

“Give him more time. He must work through his grief. A clouded beacon cannot guide his people.”

“While he grieves, my soldiers die on the Broken Shore. How many more sons must lose their fathers and fathers their sons before he snaps out of this foolishness.”

“He has a full heart, your Majesty.”

“And a boneless spine.”

Across the hall, Anduin sucked in a breath. Tugging his cloak down over his brow, he shuddered. The air between us quivered and cooled with every passing moment. My chest tightened. In the distance, a bell chimed, and Anduin swept back the curtains and turned on his heels. 

My legs loosened, and I stumbled forward, watching his coattails retreat down the empty hall. Opening my mouth, I called to him, and though no sound escaped my throat, when he reached the oak door at the end of the ramp he turned and his eyes settled upon me.

They widened. The blood drained from his cheeks, and his pupils blew out to consume the blue of his eyes. He cried. The world jolted. I snapped open my eyes and stared up at the purple canvas of my tent.

Raising a hand to my cheek, I found it streaked with trails of sweat and...something else. Tears, I supposed. Hastily rubbing them away with the back of my hand, I rolled over and swung my feet off the bed to feel around for my shoes in the dark. I had just slipped my toes down into them when the flap parted, and a familiar brown head of hair poked in.

Right’s eyes settled upon me, and her lips pursed into a line. “Are you all right, sir?” She asked.

“Quite all right, yes,” I turned away. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of my shirt. Clenching them, I cursed under my breath and willed my forearm to steady. “Why do you ask?”

“Never mind, sir. I just wanted to—”

“Yes, yes,” I waved my hand dismissively. “Though I would do better with a cup of coffee in hand, and perhaps a few moments alone to gather my thoughts.”

“Of course, sir.” With a bow, she disappeared. Sighing, I pulled on my armor and stared at the pillows piled atop my sheets. I would have loved to see Anduin’s hair spread upon them someday, but my hand, I knew, had been forced.

I clipped my brooch at the base of my throat, straightened my pauldrons, and wrapped my hair up into my turban. Inhaling, I slid back the tent flap and stepped into the gray light of dawn. The cool mountain air tickled the tip of my nose, as it had done in more carefree times. 

I paid my agents little more than a glance as I lifted my mug from the table and warned them to await my command. As I took swig after swig of my coffee, I ascended the ramp to the temple and rushed up the steps on the tips of my toes. I swung a right, away from the rumble of pandaren voices chanting their morning stairs and to the dusty storeroom I had visited last afternoon.

The same blond figure turned, then rose upon my approach. “You came,” Kairozdormu noted, only a touch surprised. 

Clenching my jaw, I pressed the mug of my coffee to my lips, and muttered, “On one condition.”

“Oh?” The other dragon arched a brow. 

“Anduin must be restrained somewhere safe before we begin.”

Kairozdormu opened his mouth, but I interrupted, raising my hand and clicking my teeth. “That is my condition. My agents and I will see that it is done.”

The bronze dragon straightened, but I rose onto my toes to account for the difference in our heights. Jutting out my chin, I dared him to insult me again. He quelled, shaking his head and floating back a few paces towards the barrels.

“Very well, but if this is your wish, I will not wait for you.”

“This is my wish,” I insisted. Tipping back my mug, I finished my coffee, bringing it to rest by my side. Without another word, I departed, stepping out into cold mountain air, taking a seat on the stairs beside a pandaren man who refused to meet my gaze, and staring out over the snow dusted valley towards a cluster of blue and gold tents lining the shore. 

Clenching my hands in my lap, I watched the sun’s rays break over the water and bathe Kun Lai in their golden light. It was a clear morning, for once, I mused. How silly of the dawn to come for a day like this.


End file.
